Betrayal From Within
by Nalledia
Summary: Amaya was a thrill-seeker. It only made sense that she had found the Assassins and joined one of them on his trips. But her past caught up to her, and nothing will be the same again. Some French, please correct if wrong.


**Betrayal from Within**

Assassin's Creed I Fanfiction

DISCLAIMER:

I do not own any of the Assassin's Creed characters, nor do I claim to be historically accurate. And yes, some of the dialog comes straight from the book/game. This is a one-shot piece. The character, Amaya, belongs to me. Enjoy this, and please R&R!

We rode hard and fast, Altaïr and me. His snowy-white Arab huffed and snorted as it galloped, and contrasted strongly with my own midnight black steed. We had no time to loose; Robert de Sable had already managed to slip past us in Jerusalem, and Altaïr was determined not to let that happen again. I wasn't really supposed to be here with him, but Altaïr had long since learnt that arguing over where I stayed or went was pointless; our love had proved a fatal weapon against the Templars.

After all, who would think a slender young woman such as myself could lift a sword, let alone use it skillfully? Never mind that an Assassin rode with such a woman. I smiled grimly to myself as we bolted for Arsuf, thinking back on our travel and living arrangements….

I stayed away from the bureaus and Masyaf, and only 'happened' to be where Altaïr's targets were. It was simple, but it had helped him out of several nasty fights a few times before. In my spare time, when he was busy, I made a fair living out of horse thievery and selling them to opposite sides of the war; Crusader horses to Saracens and vice versa. And, naturally, back again. Close childhood friends of mine had helped me along with this plan, and often acquired new horses for me from across the land. That was how Altaïr and I met: I was stealing Saracen horses but they had seen me, and put up a chase. I laughed to myself as I thought of how surprised the Assassin had been when I tossed him the reins of two horses, and bolted. Since then, a firm friendship had formed, eventually turning to love.

I suppose, thinking back, I had only stolen horses to deny the Templars in the beginning. But it had proved a useful 'hobby', as I learnt of many plans concerning the Holy Land.

"Almost there," Altaïr called over the sound of thudding hooves, glancing back at me. I nodded, and spoke soothingly to my horse. Finally, the man who had caused all this grief, all this trouble would be finished for good….

We rode up to a higher stretch of land, and looked out over the battlefield. The sound of horses and men screaming and dying and clashing blades was deafening. I was glad for Altaïr's presence. He stared out across the land silently, his hood covering his face as he was lost in thought. But I knew the expression he wore well. His brow was furrowed in concentration, and his lips were pulled into a slight frown as he used his eagle vision to pick out Robert. I pushed my steed closer to his, and our knees brushed. Altaïr looked at me, pushing his hood back a little so that I could see his eyes. "He's near the back, possibly by King Richard and trying to put his plan into action…" he drew in a deep breath; I knew what he was going to ask me, but I let him ask anyway. "Amaya, please, go back to Jerusalem. Or at least, stay here –"

I shook my head. "Never. What if you get yourself into something only I can get you out of?" I teased, nudging my mount to a brisk walk. "Besides, I also have a score to settle with de Sable…"

We neared the Crusader barracks almost two hours later. Our horses were exhausted from the constant gallop, and it would be much easier to travel on foot from here on. We left them in the meager shade of a desert tree, and hurried on. Altaïr led the way, keeping an eye out for anyone who might hinder us. Our journey was uneventful until we got closer to the Crusader camp. We met a pitiful scouting group, and burst upon King Richard and de Sable.

We were instantly surrounded by Crusaders and Templars alike. I peered at them from under my hood, sensing my companion do the same. They scraped their broadswords out of scabbards. "Hold a moment," the Assassin called. "It's words I bring, not steel,"

_Not yet,_ I thought, still warily eyeing the circle of Crusaders around us.

The King had strode forward some, his flaming hair and beard was quite a sight to see, contrasting with the silver armor he wore, and setting alight the embellished golden lion upon his breatplate. Regally, he raised a hand and his men stopped advancing. For now. Altaïr and I exchanged a glance. We were neck-deep in trouble if we were wanted dead.

"Offering terms of surrender, then? It's about time."

I couldn't help myself; I sniggered softly. "No. You misunderstand. Al Mualim is the one who sends me, not Salah Al'din…"

Richard the Lionheart's face darkened like a brewing thunderstorm. "_Assassin_?" he hissed. "What is the meaning of this?"

The air tensed around us. I felt for my own sword hilt, and dropped my hands to my sides. _Wait patiently…._

"You've a traitor in your midst."

"And has he hired you to kill me? Come to gloat about it before you strike?" Richard scoffed: "I won't be taken so easily…"

I felt my lover bristle next to me, but his voice stayed even when he spoke. Assassins weren't _hired_, they chose their targets according to their Creed, and whomever threatened the search for knowledge. "It's not you I've come to kill. It's _him_," Altaïr nodded at Robert.

"My lieutenant?" he laughed.

"He aims to betray."

_You never were the diplomat,_ I thought as the Assassin tried to choose his words carefully. I wished I could speak instead, but then the game would be over. It would be so like Robert, to already have his target's ear and heart for his own whims….

"That's not the way he tells it. He seeks revenge against your people for the havoc you've wrought in Acre. And," King Richard raised an accusing finger at us, "I am inclined to support him. Some of my best men were murdered by some of yours!"

"It was _I_ who killed them. And for good reason; hear me out" Altaïr ploughed on, probably because of the glowering rage on the King of England's face. He spoke of William, and his desire to take Acre for himself; of Garnier and his potions to manipulate others; of Sibrand who plotted to block the ports. "They betrayed you, and they took their orders from Robert," he finished, a muted note of triumph in his voice. "You know these men better than I. Are you truly surprised to learn of their ill intentions?"

I watched the face of this Christian king as he pondered the information given to him. Then he turned to a knight with a full-face helmet. "Is this true?" his English accent rang boldly across the small area. The knight stepped closer to his king, removing his helmet. It was Robert de Sable, in the flesh this time. Assassin and Templar sized each other up, staring with plain disgust distorting their faces. I didn't need to see Altaïr's to know this.

"My liege," Robert began, exasperated. "An assassin stands before us. Zese creatures are masters of deception. Of _course_ it isn't true," his French accent rolled thickly through his words.

"I've no reason to deceive!"

"Oh, but you _do_," de Sable cooed mockingly. I felt my skin crawl at hearing him speak again, after the past few years away from him…. "You're afraid of what will 'appen to your little fortress. Can it withstand ze combined might of the Saracen and Crusader armies?" he grinned, seeming to taste _that _victory long before its time.

"My concern is for the people of the Holy Land! If I must sacrifice myself for there to be peace, so be it!" Altaïr countered.

I turned my gaze back to the king. He wore a rather bemused expression, as if watching his own children put on a 'play' for him. I couldn't remember _him_ being so light-hearted. Then again, there had always been other things going on, appearances to keep.

A knight shifted on my left, my head swiveling to catch an unwelcome movement. I stepped slightly from foot to foot, testing my semi-stiff joints.

"This is a strange place we find ourselves in. each of you accusing the other…"

"Zere really is no time for zis," de Sable hissed impatiently. "I must be off to meet with Saladin and enlist his aid. Ze longer we delay, ze 'arder zis will become," he turned away, hoping his reasoning was enough to sway Richard. I smiled.

"Wait, Robert," the Lionheart glanced between us, and Robert.

"_W'y?_ W'at do you intend? Surely, you do _not_ believe _'im?_" de Sable seemed to have doubts about his situation now. Maybe his king _would_ believe the word of an Assassin….

"It is a difficult decision –" King Richard began.

_Oh, God,_ I thought, knowing where _this_ was headed.

"– One I cannot make alone. I must leave it in the hands of one wiser than I," he ended loftily.

"Zank you,"

"No, Robert. Not you."

"Then 'o?" the Templar challenged.

"The Lord!" the king declared, smiling as though the answer itself had been divine intervention. "Let this be decided by combat. Surely God will side with the one whose cause is righteous,"

The look on de Sable's face was strange, as if he was remembering some sweet victory and was about to have it again. Altaïr had never told me what had happened in Solomon's Temple, but I supposed it had something to do with this knight. "If zat is w'at you wish," de Sable replied smugly.

"It is,"

"So be it. Seize ze one in black," the Templar commanded.

I leapt forwards, but couldn't escape the hold on my left arm. I hissed: I couldn't get a hold of my blade. I struggled even after two knights held me still. This wasn't going to end well. I stood still as Robert stalked nearer. It was strange to say that, given his size and strength, but it was _how_ he moved that instilled that image. Careful, calculating. "Remove zat one's 'ood," he said gleefully.

_No, please no…_ I pleaded inside my head; my face a mask.

They pulled my hood back. My loose, dark hair tumbled around my shoulders. And Robert's smug grin was wiped away instantly, replaced with a look of pure shock. I subconsciously ground my teeth: the moment of truth had come. Confusion crossed the faces of many as Robert and I stood facing each other.

"_Ma s__œ__ur…"_ he whispered.

"_Je ne suis pas ta s__œ__ur!"_ I spat back.

Robert's features clouded over. "Assassin, I will tell you what you what you want to know, if you let Amaya go,"

"Amaya?" Altaïr asked, looking at me. I returned his gaze. Would he ever forgive this?

"_Ma s__œ__ur,_ the girl with you, is Amaya…"

Altaïr glanced between me and de Sable, a strange emotion dawning on his face. But it seemed as though he was desperately trying to deny it. _I_ wanted to deny it; but I knew that I never would. Standing here, in front of the man who had made my life hell, kept me locked away inside large mansions when all I wanted was to be given a chance outside the high hedge walls, thinking of the opportunity he had rather given Maria, I wondered if I really _had_ wanted him dead. I decided I didn't, but I neither wanted to be near him.

"Is it true, Amaya?" the Assassin whispered to me. His knowledge of French was limited, but he knew that 'sœur' meant 'sister'.

I closed my eyes, hoping that, maybe when I opened them, none of this would have happened. He was still waiting for me to answer. "Yes."

I felt my heart break when he turned away from me. The knights holding my arms let me go, and I pulled my hood over my face again, to hide the tears before they came. My brother turned to me, and asked me why I had betrayed him, sided with the Assassins. "I sided with no-one," I replied in French.

Robert's eyes narrowed. "You could have your pick of _any_ life, any man,"

"I choose _this _life; I choose _him_," I said, inclining my head towards Altaïr.

"Any but him." Robert growled.

"Then no-one," I returned. Our conversation was only understood by the few Templars hanging around the outside of the circle.

"Come here."

"No." I stood my ground, even when Robert's rage threatened to break loose. I was almost as precious as the treasure he had sought, and he had managed to lose both. He strode to me, and hoisted me onto his shoulders. I screamed at him, kicking at him, trying to force him to let me go. "_Robert de Sable, rel__â__che-moi!_" I screamed as he deposited me into the arms of another Templar far from Altaïr. I fumed silently, earning a look of contempt from my brother, one of empathy from Richard the Lionheart, and the coldest of all, feigned indifference from the Assassin I loved. That, more than anything, cut like an icy knife, over and over again, in my heart. I didn't hear everything they said after that. I was too absorbed in my own pain.

Altaïr turned to leave. "Altaïr…" I called, leaning against the unyielding arms of the Templar Knight. The Assassin stopped, looking at me with the same cold look he gave his prey. I felt tears begin to well. This time, everyone would see them.

"Safety and peace, Amaya."

His voice was cold, but I could hear the same pain I felt hidden in it. I sagged against the Templar's arms, my knees unable to hold me anymore. Tears streamed down my face as the man I loved walked away without a backward glance.

_oOo_

**French Translations:**

These may be literal meanings, I am not sure. French is my third language, so if you can speak/understand it fluently, please help me improve:). Thank you;)

_Ma s__œ__ur_ My sister

_Je ne suis pas ta s__œ__ur_ I am not your sister

_Robert de Sable, rel__â__che-moi_ Robert de Sable, release me


End file.
